Bloodstained Love
by Majestic Llama
Summary: "Wanna know how you got this scar?" What do you do when you find yourself trapped in the killer's den? You survive. Jeff the Killer x OC fanfic. Rated M for cursing/sexual themes/violence.
1. Chapter 1

"Don't do that!"  
"Why not? It could be fun."  
"Just don't do it..."  
"So you really believe those lame stories?"  
"I don't. But she might react badly."  
"It's just giving the weirdo a good scare. Innocent fun and nothing more."  
As the lunch break was coming to an end, Maddox and Annie were arguing, their opposite minds clashing as usual. While Annie was sweet and caring, Maddox had an ill-temper and a mean way of being which only caused people to keep him at a safe distance. He was, as you'd say, the typical high-school douchebag.  
"I'm tellin' you, babe," he grinned as he took his usual spot in the back of the class. "It's gonna be fun, you'll see."  
Her only answer was a sigh. She didn't want her new friend getting hurt because of her jackass boyfriend yet she didn't want him to think she was some kind of saint either. She often questioned why she kept dating him. A quick glance cast in his direction though, gave her the answer- his beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair made Maddox a trophy, a surfer-like Adonis who was desired by all the high-school's girls, be they freshmen, sophomores or seniors. And the best thing was that he belonged to her. Annie was sweet and caring but her pride always got the best of her.  
"Look, it's the Joker's sister!" a high-pitched voice came from the front desks just as a slim figure entered the classroom. Sasha, the biker chick, found pleasure in bullying the others. And, as the coward she actually was, she only directed her hatred towards newcomers and freshmen.  
A general peal of laughter engulfed the whole class when Sasha's target had taken her spot next to Annie.  
"Don't let her get to you," Annie softly whispered, a small smile blooming on her face before adding in a higher tone, "She only does that because she's too stupid to come up with something smart."  
The biker gal could only clench her fists in a mute anger. There was nothing she could do or say against Maddox's girlfriend. She was too scared of him.  
"So, Ophie," Maddox began in fake sympathy, "How would you like to come  
with me, Annie and some friends to hunt some ghosts in the old hospital?"  
The girl winced. Did Maddox just invite her somewhere?  
"Y- yeah, I g- guess I can come," she stammered, blushing furiously.  
Letting out a small chuckle at the sight of his girlfriend's irritated face, Maddox continued.  
"All right. We'll be there at nine PM tonight. Don't chicken out, mkay?"  
The girl nodded.  
"I won't."  
Ophelia Fay was a young, nineteen years old girl who had recently moved there from her old town. That, of course, involved switching schools too and it wasn't an easy task for the shy, anxious girl. People scared her, she stuttered and blushed like mad when someone would try to talk to her. She felt better when nobody was around so for most of the time she was seen alone, writing or drawing in a small agenda she always kept with her and for that reason, the rest of the students called her 'Weird Ophie'. They would either ignore her completely -thing that she liked-, either pick on her, like Sasha, who, for some unknown reason seemed to have hated Ophelia since the very beginning. Unlike most of the people who were bullied, Ophelia was quite attractive. Her long, coppery locks fell wildly over her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face with a small delicate nose and sky blue eyes. The only thing that tainted her angelic figure was a long scar,  
starting at the left corner of her mouth and ending right under her cheek bone.  
Nobody knew exactly why she got that scar. Her parents used to tell her it was just a birth sign whenever she would ask them.

Of course, she never believed them but in time she learnt to live with that flaw and stopped pressing her parents for an answer. Luckily, some smart individual invented liquid foundation. It concealed pretty neat the scar.  
The class passed as usual. The students pretended to be attentive while fighting the urge to fall asleep at the teacher's endless droning. Annie would cast some worried glances now and then to her friend, while Maddox couldn't stop grinning. His girlfriend  
didn't utter a word when he made the invitation. Maybe she wasn't the goody two shoes he had though, after all. This night would be fun. The best he ever had in a while.  
"As a homework, read chapters eight through nine and make a short summary," the teacher's low voice came after the liberating bell ring. Nobody bothered to write it down for they were too busy rushing to the door, laughing and cheering as they quickly got out. One more class and they would be finally free.  
"Where you think you goin', eh, bitch?" sounded jeeringly Sasha's voice, just as Ophelia was slamming closed her locker.  
Not a single word left the girl's lips. Sasha didn't scare her but she wanted to be left alone.  
"Ain't gonna talk to me, huh?" the biker chick spat, hurling her fist into the locker's door. "Saw that? The next one will be your fucking face."  
Again, no answer. The look of sheer hatred burning in Ophelia's eyes made the rocker scowl. So she wanted to play hard to get, huh? So be it.  
The first hit sprung on Ophelia's face like a whip, throwing her head on the side. Tears stung her eyes, her cheek burning in pain.  
Before they knew it, half of the students were surrounding them, all cheering for Sasha.  
Startled by their shrieks, the biker raised her tattooed hand for another strike.  
"What the-"


	2. Chapter 2

Sasha's hand stopped in mid-air, just a few inches away from Ophelia's face.  
"How fucking dare you?" the biker growled at the sight of Ophelia's fingers clenched tightly around her wrist.  
The only answer that came from her fool was a sigh.  
"You just can't mind your own business, huh?" she spat as her fist forcefully met Sasha's makeup caked face. "I've always hated people like you." Another blow hurled into her face. "Who think they can do whatever they fucking want by picking on the smaller ones."  
Her fist rushed into her cheek with incredible force. One time. And another. Until her assailant's face was covered in blood.  
At that moment, Ophelia didn't see or hear anything. It was just Sasha, herself and a burning desire to... kill. Yes, that was the word. She needed the bully to crawl at her feet, begging for mercy. She wanted to see despair in her eyes when she bargained for her life.  
Whoosh!  
A hurtful punch collided with Ophelia's jaw, nearly removing it out of place. The crowd was ecstatic. Who would've thought that the shy young lady would have such unbelievable strength.  
Much to everyone awe, she merely laughed. A throaty peal that got everyone questioning her sanity.  
She never felt like this before. It was delirious. Like a shot of adrenaline straight though her heart.  
"What the hell's going on here?" the angry voice of a teacher could be heard.  
As chased by wolves, the students scattered around, each hurrying to reach their classroom.  
Ophelia felt herself picked up and carried through the what seemed an endless maze of hallways and doors until finally, the sun's rays struck her face. She was outside.  
"That was fuckin' awesome!" Maddox exclaimed in sheer admiration. His fondness towards the weird girl had went up with the first punch she gave Sasha.  
Annie, on the other hand, still couldn't believe what she had seen. It was like someone had kidnapped her sweet and shy friend and replaced her with a savaged beast.  
"Are you okay, Oph?" she asked, worry crossing her every feature.  
It took a while before Ophelia could answer. She was dumbfounded. Gazing at her hands, she saw the crimson stains of blood and felt sick. She had actually hit another living being. What was happening to her?  
"I- I think I'm okay," she stammered under the couple's curious looks. "I just need a good nap, that's all."  
Nudged by Annie, the blond spoke.  
"I can drive you home if you want."  
"That would be great," Ophelia murmured, struggling to stand up.  
The two didn't need to hear another word. Careful not to hurt her in any way, they framed her and with a thankful smile, Ophelia wrapped her arms around their necks, allowing herself to be carried all the way to Maddox' car.  
The ride had been quiet. None of them uttered a word nor did they try to. In the backseat, Ophelia was fighting the urge to throw up, altogether with an unsettling feeling that she had been watched. On top of that, Annie's worried glanced cast over her shoulder did nothing to put Ophelia at ease. It only made her want to become one with the leather seat.  
"You're still coming to the hospital tonight, right?" Maddox asked just as she walked out of the car.  
Hesitant, she gave a slight nod.  
"We'll see ya there. Nine PM is the hour."  
Then, with a friendly wink and a wave from Annie, they both drove off, leaving the copper-haired girl alone in the street way.  
Again, that feeling asserted itself in her stomach. Someone, somewhere was watching her. She knew it like she knew her own name yet she did nothing to cast it out. As usual, it would go away after a few minutes.  
Entering the house, she was struck by a wave of smells and noises, some louder and sharper, some slightly perceptible, yet still tawdry. It was lunch time for her family and everyone was toiling around the kitchen to make sure everyone enjoyed it.  
"Ophie, Ophie! Look what I drew!"  
"Come see my painting first!"  
"No, she'll come read my story, right, sissy?"  
Some would say that five little sisters weren't really the most relaxing thing to come home to but again, Ophelia wasn't your ordinary gal. She loved each and every one of them and every day she couldn't wait to return home and spend her time with them.  
Not today, though.  
"Later," she replied sharply, entering the kitchen.  
"You're home!" a short, chubby lady exclaimed just as she laid foot in the kitchen.  
Ophelia strolled happily to her mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  
"Smells delicious, mom," she beamed as she pulled some plates from a nearby cabinet.  
"It's your dad's favorite- lasagna."  
"So he's coming earlier today?" Ophelia grunted.  
"Yeah. And please, be good. All of you. He had a bad day from what I understood."  
"He always has bad days."  
"Oh, don't be like that," her mother smiled, swiftly filling the plates with the delicious lasagna. "He loves us all in his own way."  
She didn't argue. She wouldn't. Her mother was always willing to forgive her husband's mistakes no matter what and nothing her daughters did or said could change her mind.  
A pungent stench of alcohol struck her instantly. Her father was home and when he brought that smell with him that could only mean one thing: the rest of the family will have a bad time.  
"Look at this," he barked angrily, taking his usual seat at the table, "I'm home and nobody gives a shit!"  
"Welcome home, love," Ophelia's mother sang out, "I was busy with the drinks."  
"Not like he'd need any," the girl muttered under her breath. She regretted her words as soon as they left her lips.  
"What did you just say, you brat?" her father thundered.  
"Nothing. I was just talking to myself."  
"Freak as usual. Why can't you be fucking normal like the rest of us?"  
_I'm normal. And if you ever bothered to actually show interest on my fate instead of screwing all your female workmates, you'd know it too_, she thought before speaking out loud, "I didn't mean to upset you, dad."  
"Of course you didn't" he spat. "But somehow you still manage to!"  
Much to the girl's relief, the room was flooded by her sisters' cheerful voices. She knew there was nothing her dad could do to shut them up and for that, she was deeply grateful. They had lunch in silence. Well, as silent as it could've been with five little girls giggling and whispering between bites.  
Ignoring her father's hateful looks, Ophelia thanked her mother for the meal and went upstairs in her room, for a well-deserved moment of peace. Hastily, she grabbed her pajamas and headed to the window for a breath of fresh air before shower. Just as she opened it, her heart skipped a beat. From behind the trees, a dark silhouette seemed to be approaching the alley leading to her house.  
"Who's there?" she shouted in fear.  
The silhouette stopped and with the next blink of an eye, it was gone. Ophelia wasn't aware that she had held her breath until a shaky gasp escaped her lungs. Was that a thief? And if it was, will he come back?  
Shrugging off the omnious sensation, she closed the window and strolled to her bathroom for a hot shower. She couldn't wait to feel the hot sting of water piercing through her skin.  
A shower and a nap will be just perfect to get her back on her feet.

* * *

**Second chapter~ Woo! It will take a while before she meets Jeff 'cause I want to build a little plot. Anyway, enjoy and plsreview. ; ^;**


	3. Chapter 3

The sky had already darkened when she opened her eyes. Gazing at her cell phone's clock, Ophelia's eyes widened in awe- it was half past eight. That meant she only had half an hour left to dress up and get to the old hospital in time.  
She jumped out of bed and threw hastily on a pair of skinnies, a long tank top and a leather jacket. In her rush, the girl nearly stumbled down the stairs as she struggled to walk and put her sneakers on at the same time.  
Her parents were gone and her sisters were long asleep, so no one was there to bother her with useless questions.  
"Good thing Annie suggested to drive past here, huh?" she heard Maddox' voice while she locked the door behind her. He was in his black car, accompanied by his girlfriend who seemed eager to go ghost hunting.  
"Sorry, I just fell asleep," Ophelia laughed as she entered the car. "How many people are coming?"  
"Five more," Annie answered. "We hardly managed to convince anyone."  
Maddox sniffed at her words.  
"Pussies."  
A general peal of laughter filled the car. Now that all her stress had been relieved and Maddox didn't want to play any jokes on her anymore, everyone looked more relaxed than they would've usually been around each other. It seemed that Ophelia's unexpected outburst had brought her a new friend.  
The hospital's gates were already opened when they arrived. Several forms were walking restlessly from one gate to another, gesturing and fretting. They looked like having an argument.  
"This shitface didn't bring the fucking flashlights!" a young boy, around the age of eighteen shouted as they approached.  
"I thought he was supposed to bring 'em," the one in question grunted.  
"Shut the hell up, dumbasses," Maddox grinned. "I have all the stuff in my trunk. I knew y'all would forget your shit home, so I brought supplies."  
The atmosphere suddenly eased. The five persons Annie was talking about seemed to be three seniors, all from Maddox' surfing crew and two girls whom Ophelia hadn't seen until then.  
"I'm Jill," she introduced herself, as if having read Ophelia's thoughts. "Nice blow you gave that bitch."  
"Yeah!" one of Maddox' friends confirmed. "The slut had it coming for long. I'm Toby, by the way," he smiled, reaching his hand to Ophelia who shook it with amity.  
"You done making presentations, ladies?" Maddox joked, tossing every one a flashlight helmet. "We'll be using these for guidance and these," ‒he threw one walkie-talkie to each person present‒ "to communicate. You got your cameras ready?"  
"Aye!" the boys cheered while the girls just gave small nods.  
"Okay. Take pics of every corner and anything that seems odd."  
This time, everyone's approval came in unison.  
"Understood."  
They split in pairs of two. Annie and Maddox, as expected, Jill with a boy named Dean, Ophelia with Toby and the two other, Stephanie and Shane together.  
Armed with flashlight helmets and cameras, the eight made their way to the old hospital's doors.  
Maddox pushed them and, with an unpleasant creak, they finally spread open, showing the abandoned waiting room with its desks and chairs.  
"Leave the doors open," Annie whispered to her boyfriend. "So we can get out easier in case something happens."  
The fear in her voice was clear as daylight, making the others unsure as well. But they couldn't back down now or else they would've been high-school's banter until they would've graduated.  
At her flash's light, Ophelia stopped to gaze at some old frames which seemed to date since the '80s. Aged papers were stuck on them, announcements to patients, offers of health insurances and even a poster that advertised a circus show in the city. As her gaze swerved to the side of the frame, her heart stopped. Smudged from one side to another, there was a dark stain gleaming in the beacon's light. Could it possibly be...?  
"What the fuck was that?"  
Maddox' voice was the only thing they heard before the big doors slammed shut behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

They all froze. The only thing that could be heard was Jill's heavy breathing in the oppressive darkness.  
"Why the fuck did you do that, man?" Toby grunted in the direction he supposed Maddox would be.  
"Yeah, douchebag, are you trying to fucking kill us or what?" Jill added, in a louder voice.  
The blond didn't answer. Pushed by his girlfriend, he felt around his hat, seeking the flashlight's button. When he finally found it, a dim, yellow light showed the way to the main entrance and, guided by it, the boy headed to the door.  
_Shit!_ he thought. The doors were locked. How the fuck did it happen anyway?  
"What's wrong?" Annie whispered as she approached him with her newly lit flashlight. "Is it broken or something?"  
Much to her surprise, Maddox pulled her closer and leaned so close to her ear she could feel his warm breath on her skin.  
"I'mma tell you something but promise you won't scream or tell them."  
He felt her reluctant nod.  
"They're locked. Someone or something locked them after we entered."  
A horrified gasp escaped Annie's throat which her boyfriend hastily muffled with his hand.  
"What the hell do you mean?" she whispered, her eyes widened in disbelief. "There was nobody else with us!"  
"I know that, okay?" he spat, "We'll have to find another fucking exit."  
"Tell them!"  
"No fucking way! Do you want those pussies to panic and start screaming? We'd better separate so we can cover more ground."  
"The hell are you two talking about?" sounded impatiently Shane's voice.  
"Annie got scared."  
The girl opened her mouth to protest but as soon as she met Maddox' sharp look, she changed her mind, her head hanging low in defeat.  
"Y‒ Yeah. I'm kinda scared of darkness."  
Nobody laughed. They all felt something was wrong. The sensation of dread was lingering in the air, like an oppressive many fingered hand gripping tightly at their chests. Yet, none of them dared say a word. As usual, pride conquered fear.  
"We'll take all the floors to make sure nothing remains unchecked," Maddox began in his usual demanding manner, "Annie and I will take the first floor, Stephanie and Shane the second, Oph and Toby the third and Jill and Dean the morgue. If you‒"  
"Hold the fuck up," Jill barked, "Why do we have to take the morgue?"  
"You're the oldest."  
"So?"  
"The oldest takes the lowest part," the blond simply answered.  
The others didn't do much to support the unlucky couple. They were just relieved that none of them had to go down in the morgue.  
"As I said," Maddox continued when all form of protest has vanished, "If you find something useful, like a way out, let everybody know."  
"We have a way out right here," Ophelia murmured.  
"It's always better to have more options. You never know what can happen in this shithole," her partner joked, wrapping affectionately his arm around her shoulders.  
"Any other questions?"  
When no answer could be heard, they all split up, each couple taking the directions assigned. Ophelia watched in growing anxiety as one by one, the pairs disappeared in the darkness of the deserted hallways, some impatient to find some ghosts, some already wanting the night to end.  
"So we're finally alone, huh?" whispered Toby as they walked together past the hospital's closed doors.  
"I guess."  
He chuckled and nudged playfully the small young woman next to him.  
"I see you're not too talkative either."  
She shrugged.  
"I guess I'm not comfortable around people."  
"I see," he murmured almost to himself. "Let's start with this one," he pointed to a newer-looking door and, without waiting for Ophelia's consent, he grabbed her hand and dragged her in.  
The room looked like your average hospital salon. Rusty beds were arranged on the sides and some old IV's could be seen, thrown on the dusty floor. No ghosts, though.  
"Boooooring," Toby laughed and, much to Ophelia's awe, he jumped on a bed. The old piece of furniture collapsed under his weight with a blaring bang, prompting a horrified squeak from the girl's throat.  
"It's better than finding god-knows-what scary shit," she mumbled under her breath after he finally got up.  
"You're scared, huh?"  
"To be honest, yes. This place gives me an odd feeling."  
"Maybe because it's night. All the things as scarier when engulfed by darkness," he comforted her as he closed the door behind them.  
"It's not like that," Ophelia whispered, "Can't you feel it? It's like my whole being screams at me to get the fuck outta here."  
Another salon, more beds and more darkness. The terrifying feeling in Ophelia's gut grew bigger and bigger as they walked through the seemingly endless maze of halls with nothing but two flashlights to guide them. Against her will, the girl snuggled closer against her partner, craving for a sense of security. Far from being annoyed or even indifferent, Toby held her tightly, enjoying the sudden closure.  
"You're so damn warm," he whispered when they entered the last room that seemed like a decrepit office and before she knew it, she found herself pushed against the wall, Toby's warm breath caressing her lips as he spoke.  
"I've always liked you," he whispered, "That mystery that surrounds you," ‒his lips were slowly brushing against hers‒ "It's driving me mad."  
Ophelia felt her face catching fire. Someone actually liked her?  
"Kiss me," he murmured as his arms circled her slim waist, holding her captive.  
And that was the moment her body had stopped listening to her. Her arms gracefully snaked around his neck, her lips parting, welcoming his hot, inquisitive tongue inside the warmth of her mouth. She felt her heart race under the impact of the new sensations. His tongue slid against hers roughly yet so sweetly, sending shivers to her very bones; his hands moved lower, cupping her buttocks and swiftly lifting her against the wall.  
In a matter of seconds, Ophelia wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the passion blazing between them with each passing moment.  
"Guys, I think you should come see this," Stephanie's blurred voice could be heard from their stations.  
"Fuck," Toby cursed, gently placing Ophelia back on the floor. If it wasn't for the wall to support her weight, she would've fallen down in the decades old dust.  
"Let's go see what she wants," he grunted as he pulled the still incredulous young woman behind him. "Then we can leave this shithole and continue what we started at my place."  
Ophelia's face was on fire. She was grateful that the weak glare of their flashlights conceived that embarrassing redness. Being caught in that crazed hurry, she didn't notice when her hand brushed against something. It was a couple of minutes later that her blood froze in her veins‒ it had felt like some sort of soft fabric.  
Clothes. Someone else was there.  
"Toby," she whispered. "Did you feel that too?"  
"Feel what?"  
"The fabric thing."  
"What fabric thing?" he asked as they finally reached the floor they had been called to.  
"It was on our floor. I touched it when we were running."  
"Don't be silly," he chuckled as he ruffled her already messy hair, "It must've been your imagination."  
Her only answer was a small nod. His kiss had been so unexpected that her mind went delirious. She wanted to believe it so badly. She needed to believe it. Yet she couldn't. She knew it had been fabric she felt and there was no doubt about it.  
"What the fuck took you so long?" Shane barked when they finally found them.  
"We've been busy," Toby replied, casting Ophelia a suggestive grin which, much to her relief, nobody seemed to have noticed.  
"Take a look at this," Stephanie spoke, her voice trembling as they walked in the salon.  
The view was pertifying. All the beds were pushed apart, ripped and torn, their mattresses scattered all around a filthy floor. The windows were headed with iron and on the empty wall, in a dark, dripping liquid, there was written _Go to sleep._  
"What the fuck is this?" Toby asked, staring in disbelief at the other couple. "Some kind of sick joke?"  
"That's what we've been thinking about at first. We thought that maybe Maddox set this whole thing up but when we tried to contact him, all we could hear was this."  
With no other words, he took out the station and pushed the ON button. They They all froze in fear when the only sound coming from Maddox' station was a scratch noise, like an asthma-defeated breath of a person who had been struggling to climb an enormous amount of stairs.  
"We should go see what's happenin with them," Stephanie suggested.  
"No!" Ophelia whispered, "We have to get out of here. And fast. Something's wrong!"  
"Stop talking nonsense," Shane snarled. "It's one of Maddox' shit pranks."  
"It's not! When we came down here, I felt someone's clothes. He or she must've been leaning against the wall. And when we first came here, I saw blood smothered on one of the panels," Ophelia insisted, her voice nearly drowning in tears. "We have to leave!"  
Before she could utter another word, a hand pressed heavily against her mouth. When she looked up, she recognized Shane's face, but now his features were different. Sheer terror could be read in his eyes and his voice dripped with fear when he spoke.  
"Close the fucking door."  
Without waiting to be told twice, Toby rushed to the small, wooden opening and carefully closed it. Everybody's question found its answer when, on the hallway's floor, there could be heard some steady tick-tocks.  
Footsteps!  
Much to their horror, the footsteps were getting closer and closer and soon, they could hear a voice. It wasn't like none of them ever heard. It was raspy and low, of a boy around their age but somehow more mature than a high-school chap would've sounded.  
_Hush little sweeties, don't say a word..._  
His voice could be heard louder and clearer.  
_Jeff's gonna kill you and make you burn..._  
The sinister lullaby echoed in the hall, frightening them. Deafening them. They could all feel their hearts pumping like mad beneath their chests that they feared that the psycho might hear their beats.  
_And if your corpses just won't burn..._  
Something was scratching the wall. He had a knife and he seemed to be dragging it along the surface.  
_Jeff's gonna bury you beneath the ferns._  
The scratch was now on their door. That sicko was standing in front of their door.  
The four could only wait in frozen anticipation the second the door would crack open. In their minds, they were all determined that, no matter who would enter, they would all pounce on him. The boys only wanted to beat the shit out of him for scaring them like that.  
Alleviation flooded through them when, after another tensed seconds that felt like years, the boy's voice could be heard fading away, farther and farther from the room they were in. A general sigh of relief embraced the room when his voice went completely mute.  
"He went the opposite way," Toby whispered, "We can go find the others and get the fuck out of here."  
Against her will, Ophelia followed them outside the room. She knew that, no matter how hard she would've tried to convince them they should leave while they can, her wish wouldn't have been acknowledged. They were determined to find the others at any costs.  
"We'll take the right, you go to the left," Shane spoke when they finally reached the first floor.  
Nodding their answers, Ophelia and Toby headed in the indicated direction without bothering for a second to look back.  
After what seemed like an eternity of opening and closing doors that lead to empty rooms, they have finally reached the last one.  
Oh, how they wished they hadn't.  
As soon as they opened the door, a sickening stench invaded their nostrils, forcing them to back off for a bit. Tears flooded Ophelia's eyes when she saw, lying naked on the floor, Maddox and Annie. Blood was oozing from their slashed throats and, to her horror, Annie's fingers were still twitching. Next to her mouth, there was placed Maddox' station and the sudden realization struck Ophelia like a high velocity train.  
The hum they heard earlier had been their friend's last breaths. She needed all the force she could muster not to collapse on the floor and weep like a little child.  
"C'mon, Oph," sounded Toby's voice. It was obvious that he was just as shaken as she was. "We'll get the hell outta here and we'll call the cops."  
"Call them now," she cried out, "You have your phone, right?"  
"The battery died."  
"Shit," she spat, "Let me see if I didn't forget mine."  
As Toby carefully closed the door behind them, she went in a crazed frenzy to find her cellphone. She hastily shoved her hands in all her pockets until she reached something solid, plastic-made.  
"Fucking shit!" she desperately growled, "I've got no signal here."  
"We gotta keep walking to the exit. Maybe you'll have some signal the‒ AAAAHH!"  
A pained scream and a crazed laughter. Those were the last things she heard before bolting to the last floor. The one where she would find the door. Her only way to freedom.  
Bitter tears were streaming down her cheek as she kept running for her life. Adrenaline pumped through her heart, fueling her burning desire to leave this place.  
_Please, God, just help me get out. Please, help me_, she begged when she felt her legs almost give up in the middle of the staircase.  
Once arrived in the main waiting room, she hurled to the door and ran for sweet freedom.  
Click! The sound nauseated her.  
The door was locked.  
With a feral growl, she pulled and pushed at the handle, begging for it to bust open before her assailant would reach her.  
_Hush, little sweetheart, don't say a word..._  
Her stomach clamped painfully. His voice was deafeningly close. As she turned to face him, she felt something break inside her. He was sitting at the top of the stairs, his white hoodie stained with blood and a wide grin on his murderous face. He seemed to be enjoying watching her succumbing little by little to the fear she was feeling for he took his time to walk down the stairs. He casually swayed a knife in his hands and his grin seemed to ‒if that was even possible‒ widen at her sight.  
Just as she was coming at peace with the thought that she was going to die, her gaze swerved to another door that close to her.  
The morgue. There had to be an exit there.  
Without thinking at the possible consequences, she made a mad sprint to the black door and a victorious shriek slipped her lips when it opened soundlessly. She hastily closed it behind her and went down, in the gloom of the underground.  
Several tables were arranged all around all around the room and the dreadful feeling of death was lingering in the air around. She felt watched, as if the thousands of dead souls were awaiting to see the outcome of her situation.  
_Jeff's gonna stab you until you die..._  
Shit! Shit! Shit! He was so fucking quick.  
Without any second thought, she hid behind a covered stand, huddling between it and the wall. It wasn't the best hiding place for she would've had no way to escape if he caught her there but it was preferable to the compartments where corpses were kept.  
"Where are you, my dear?" his sinister voice echoed in the silence of the morgue.  
Ophelia quickly covered her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Salty tears were still running down her cheeks. She knew she wasn't going to see the daylight again. She only wished she had a more ordinary death.  
"This only makes it more fun for me." This time, his voice had been accompanied by an insane peal of laughter. "But if you come out, I'll make it quick, I promise."  
For a moment, she had been tempted to take his offer. Hell, she was going to die anyway so why bother hiding anymore? But then, she realized she didn't want to die that easily. This psycho killed her friends with cold blood and she had no guarantee that she was going to end fast. If she was going to die, she was going to leave the stage struggling and fighting for sweet life.  
All her thoughts ceased when the cold blade of a knife touched her skin.  
"Found ya."

* * *

**Ugh, this chapter came out longer than I expected. But hey, she finally meets Jeff. Yay! I'm also looking for a beta reader for my novel, so like, if you're interested, leave me a message. ^~^**


	5. Chapter 5

She barely managed to swallow the heavy lump at the back of her throat.  
"Say, what brings you in my humble den in this beautiful night?" the murderer hissed jeeringly.  
When her answer didn't come, his fingers clamped tightly around her chin, forcing her to take a look at his face. The view was disturbing, to say the least; his skin was white as a sheet of paper and his lidless eyes glared at her with murderous hunger. The grin she had seen earlier on his face was carved in his flesh, resembling nothing but a gruesome mask of pain and sadism.  
"You're not gonna answer, huh?" he smirked, "How rude."  
The cold blade dug deeper into her skin, every heartbeat sending a new wave of fresh blood down her neck.  
"P‒ Please, don't do it..."  
"And why?" The steel was now grinding viciously against the fresh wound, waves of burning pain invading her senses.  
"I p‒ promise I w‒ won't tell anyone i‒ if you let me go," she implored, tears streaming down her cheek and neck, entwining with the blood.  
"Is that so?"  
She tried to nod, but another sting of pain shot through her body.  
"Well, I might refuse your generous offer," he spoke, his shrill peal of laughter piercing through the silence.  
"Please," Ophelia murmured, "What h‒ have I ever done to you?"  
Much to her horror, his laughter only increased in tonality.  
"You don't have to do anything, my dear," came his answer in a low, husky voice as his fingers gently caressed her cheek. "Didn't your parents teach you not to enter abandoned hospitals during nigh time? It might be dange‒"  
He suddenly stopped and so did his fingers. After a brief moment, they were roaming along her scar, with such softness that she couldn't believe this guy had actually killed her friends.  
"What's this?" he asked, pulling the knife out of her flesh, prompting a pained yelp from the helpless girl.  
"A s‒ scar."  
"How did you get it?"  
"I‒ I don't know. I was born with it."  
"Impossible!" the murderer shouted, forcefully turning her head to the side to take a better look at the mysterious bump. "People are not born with stuff like this. Are you lying to me?"  
Gasping in terror, the young woman barely shook her head in denial. She wished he would kill her already and end this useless nonsense.  
"I remember now..." She heard him murmuring as he reached for something in his pocket. After a few seconds and some annoyed curses later, he finally pulled out a thick piece of rope which he used to tie her hands around the stand's leg.  
"I decided I'm not going to kill you..."  
Relief flooded through her when she heard his words.  
"... yet. I'm gonna play with you for a while. Now, stay here, as a good girl you are and wait for me."  
He got up and cast her a smile. He seemed even more sinister to her now and she knew in that moment that there was no way out of her situation. Unless, through some miracle, he would have a heart attack and die before her eyes. And even then, she wasn't sure she would have the necessary strength to free her hands from the uncomfortable binding. She wanted to cry. She tried to cry. But all the tears have dried. All that was left behind was a throbbing pain in the side of her neck and the burning desire to die. She couldn't even scream anymore...  
"I brought a little friend for you," his voice could be heard again. It sounded jerky, as if he had been making tremendous efforts and soon enough, she could make out another sound. A soft scratching noise, otherwise barely audible. He was dragging something to her. And she was sure as hell she wasn't going to enjoy it.  
Her heart started pounding faster when she heard his quiet giggle as he set that something in a spot in front of her, backing it on a nearby table.  
"I'll turn on the lights now," the murderer uttered, sheer delight dripping from his voice. "Don't scream. Or, in fact, you're free to. It will only please me more."  
The lights flickered on and brought with them her crazed scream. Before her, naked and butchered, there was lying Toby. His torso was nearly cut open and, here and there, his skin seemed to have been ripped off. The most frightening thing wasn't the sudden gore unveiling itself in front of her eyes, but the victim's face. It was untouched and his eyes were wide open, still holding the shadow of the agony he had to endure.  
"He was quite a hassle," the killer spoke nonchalantly as he wiped his bloody knife on Toby's hair. "But I like a good challenge. And I think I did a pretty good job with the cut, see?" His fingers were sliding across his bloody flesh, reaching the numerous wounds that marred his body.  
Ophelia gagged. The coppery smell of blood was nauseating. It stormed through her nostrills, burning her throat in its way to her lungs.  
"What is it?" sounded mockingly his voice, "Can't you stand the sight of your boyfriend?" He saw her eyes widen and let out a small chuckle. "I heard you two in that office. I think you've acknowledged my presence too when you were hurrying to the second floor. But anyway, I'll leave you two discuss. You have the whole night at your disposal."  
Ophelia couldn't utter a single word. She just watched in frozen dread as small chunks of yellow fat were sliding down the once so happy and nice boy. The reality of the moment struck her again, bringing with it a refreshed desire to weep. And this time, the tears didn't let themselves awaited.  
"Hush now, little sweetie," he whispered as he kissed gently her temple. "Go to sleep, it will be easier."  
With that said, he left the room, leaving the lights on and a broken Ophelia weeping in the back of the morgue. Wherever she would turn her head, Toby's image would follow her like a specter and she realized that only by closing her eyes, his frozen glare would stop fixing her.  
Exhausted, resigned and grieved, she found liberation in the sleep that didn't come at ease. When she finally passed out, her mind went completely blank, a dark abyss, devoid of any other emotion or feeling.  
She just wished she would die. 


	6. Chapter 6

The morning's first hours found Ophelia lying in a bed. Her breath was slow and barely noticeable, small waves of air slipping through her slightly parted lips. With a pained moan, she cracked open her azure eyes, struggling to clear her view. Through the blur, she could catch a small glimpse of the morning sun's rays that were invading the room.  
Was this her room? Her fingers frantically felt around the hoarse sheets, desperate for a slight clue of where she might be.  
"Sleeping Beauty has finally woke up, I see."  
The voice made her blood freeze. It was painfully familiar. It shot through her ears like a thunderclap, soon turning into a deafening whizzing. As her vision became clearer, so did the boy's figure. And along with it, all the terrible memories came back, striking her again and again until she couldn't help but let out a high-pitched shriek.  
"Something wrong?" the same voice inquired and, much to her dismay, it seemed to have been approached.  
Ophelia didn't answer. She gripped the sheets tightly, pulling them closer to her body. If she could, she would've tightened them so firmly she would've suffocated herself. The immense desire to die had laid its weight upon her, this time stronger and faster.  
"W‒ Where am I?" she asked, her voice trembling in fear.  
"At the third floor," he simply answered. When she turned her head, she noticed the boy sitting next to her bed, holding an awfully sharp knife. She also noticed that, for the first time since they met, his face showed something else than insanity. She could've swore it was worry yet she had a hard time believing it.  
"What do you want from me? And who are you? And why the hell did you kill my friends?" she snarled, forgetting all her fear and desperation. She wanted answers. She wanted reasons. She wanted to be left alone to delve in her misery.  
"One question at the time," the boy chuckled, swaying the knife dangerously close to her face. "I'm not yet sure what I want from you. I'm Jeff. And because I felt like it."  
Ophelia couldn't believe her ears. He spoke with such carelessness as if taking innocent life had been nothing but child's play.  
"Let me go," the girl hissed through her teeth.  
"Or else?" he laughed, "You'll call the police? You'll kill me? Tell me, I'm curious."  
"I'll..."  
Despair flooded her when she realized that there was nothing she could do. She was but a mere prey, fallen in the hands of a very deranged hunter. She was at his mercy and, with an aching heart, she found herself fighting the urge to beg for him to let go of her.  
"Please..." Oh, how she despised herself for that pleading note.  
"Don't you remember?" Jeff asked, his face sickeningly close to her. "Do you want to know how you got this scar?" he continued, caressing her cheek, running his slim fingers along the white snake of the scar embedded in her skin.  
"I told you, I was born with it!" To her content, her voice came back to its normal firm tone.  
The murderer merely smirked.  
"And I told you, this is not the kind of stuff people are born with, my dear Ophelia."  
Her eyes widened in awe.  
"H‒ How do you know my name?"  
"I know you," came his honest answer. "Or, I knew you until my parents took me to another city."  
"What do you mean?" She wished he would stay at a fair distance. She didn't like the way his lidless eyes were staring at her, as if drilling into the depths of her soul.  
"If you'll shut up for a minute, I'd probably be able to tell you," he frowned and seeing her revolted look, he let out a small chuckle. "You were four and I was five. We used to play together in your backyard and your parents trusted us enough to leave us all alone. Well, until that day." He sat back on his chair, his pale fingers roaming across the silver blade. "We somehow managed to sneak in your dad's warehouse and steal some of his knives. And guess what we played?" Jeff grinned, "Surgeons. Two little kids were playing surgeons with real knives. Well, in the next five minutes my knife was slicing through your cheek and your parents came out, shouting and screaming blue murder," he sighed, "I don't remember much much after, but my parents decided to move to another town in hope that time will erase what their son did to a poor little girl. Several years later, I started playing surgeon again, this time on a larger scale. And then I remembered you and  
I did this," Jeff grinned and pointed to his sliced face.  
With each word that left his lips, Ophelia's anger grew more and more. With every sound he made, she felt an immense urge to rip him apart.  
"You're sick," she spat.  
"I know."  
"You're a sick fucker who watched too many horror movies! And on top of that, you're a liar too!"  
"Believe whatever you want," Jeff shrugged, seemingly indifferent at her sudden outburst. "But it's the only explanation for that scar on your face."  
"I was fucking born with it!"  
Jeff's knife flew in a split of second to her throat, stopping just before piercing it.  
"Keep annoying me and you'll know the same fate as your friends there," he growled, his eyes burning with rage.  
"Do it," she snarled, "I've been praying to die since last night."  
"Too bad I can't grant you that wish," the killer hissed through gritted teeth. "Get ready or whatever. We leave at twelve."  
She sniffed mockingly at his affirmation.  
"Like I'd come anywhere with you."  
"Oh, but you will," he smirked, "You and me, Ophelia, are just the same. I see it in your eyes."  
And with that said, he left the salon, leaving behind a concerned Ophelia. She knew exactly what he meant. That last confrontation between her and Sasha, brought up feelings that she never thought could exist inside herself. That intoxicating wish to kill and cause as much pain as possible to her assailant...  
There was nothing she could do or say to convince herself to stay.  
She had nothing else here anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

"This is my home," Jeff spoke, inviting Ophelia into a small house. "And starting today, it will be yours too."  
She followed him in, not quite sure what to do. She still found it hard to believe the guy who had cold-bloodedly murdered all her friends. What if this was all his plan to kill her just the way he did with the others? And if it was, why was she still alive? He had so many opportunities to murder her...  
"Shit!" she heard him shouting from upstairs. This was it. She was going to die.  
Her breath got heavier as she closed her eyes. She heard him running down the stairs and braced herself.  
Then...  
"Your room became a fucking cat nest," he spat, not aware of her fear.  
"C— Cat nest?" she stammered, not believing her ears.  
"That's what I said," he replied as he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him, "See?"  
The room was pretty, she thought. But not as pretty as the little furballs resting on the bed. There were four of them, including their mother. Four orange tabbies, softly meowing and clinging onto their mother.  
"Jeff," she whispered, "She gave birth here."  
In one corner of the bed, the sheets were badly stained.  
"Wait here," he grumbled, "I'll get 'em outta here."  
"No," Ophelia uttered, grabbing his hoodie's sleeve. "Let them stay. Please."  
He shook his head.  
"And where the fu— Actually, nevermind. I have the best solution for that."  
"What d'you mean?"  
"We'll share my bed."  
Against her will, she felt her cheeks catching fire. Her? Sharing the bed with a guy? Only the simple thought of that made her tremble. And she wasn't sure if she really disliked that.  
"It's settled then." His grin seemed to grow even wider at her flushed cheeks. He didn't know how much she hated herself for feeling like that. She wasn't sure whether she should feel safe around him or not. And that scared her. A lot.  
"You stay and fix things a bit around here. I'll go get food and other stuff like that."  
"Jeff?" she suddenly spoke.  
"Yes?"  
"Can you bring me my clothes? You know where I live, right?"  
He nodded, his long white fingers stroking her jawline. A gesture so simple, yet so full of meaning. They didn't know that yet, but it would be the thing that would bond them.  
She forced a smile, following him outside the room. When he finally left the house, she sighed in relief. She had a few hours free of his presence and she decided to spend them taking care of the house. She found all she needed in a small chamber under the stairs and soon, the house wasn't the scary hellhole she stepped in. It smelled, looked and felt like a home.  
She found herself hoping that Jeff would like what she did to it but hastily chased that off her mind.  
It was already dark outside when he returned, carrying two big bags, his hair and clothes covered in snow and blood. She felt sick.  
"I had to," he shrugged, seeing her horrified gaze, "I just felt like it."  
Ophelia didn't utter a word. She took the bag where her clothes had been tucked in and went upstairs. She fell against the door just after she locked it, hot tears streaming down her face. She was the prisoner of this crazy bastard, not knowing if she was gonna make it out alive through the day. She was afraid to speak for any word or phrase would've stirred his anger. She walked to the bed and gave the mother cat a slight pet on the head, prompting a content purr from her. She would find a way to escape. She will.  
But until then, she badly needed a shower.  
When she finally went downstairs, Jeff was already biting into a slice of pizza. Seeing him made her realize how hungry she really was. She hadn't eaten in two days and her stomach was starting to riot.  
"I thought you went to sleep," the killer said as he pulled a chair for her. "Sorry."  
She beamed against her will. How could he look so human in that moment? So innocent...  
"No problem," Oph replied as she sat down and took a slice of pizza. "Where did you get the money for all of these?"  
"I stole them," came his blunt answer. "You think I kill people and leave them just like that? Sometimes I kill entire families and take all they have. I'll take you with me one day."  
She struggled to swallow down a bigger piece of pizza.  
"No offense, but that stuff isn't for me."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yeah."  
"Completely sure?"  
Seeing her hesitation, he snorted.  
"You can never be completely sure until you try."  
"I guess."  
He frowned. He didn't like the way she'd answered him. She made him feel like the bad guy here.  
"Look, Oph. I won't hurt you for anything in this world so stop being so... cold." He couldn't believe those words just came out of his mouth. Cold? Since when did he need people to accept him? People were only good to be slaughtered. But again, Ophelia wasn't just anyone. He chose her for a reason and he needed her to cooperate.  
"Do I have to stop being cold in this exact moment?" she asked, her gaze piercing through him. "You murdered my friends and left me alone for a whole night to face the butchered corpse of one of them! And now you're asking me to stop being cold?!" she shouted in rising fury. This guy was unbelievable. He acted like a victim, like a poor soul blamed for something he did not do.  
He was amazed. Amazed by her courage. This tiny human before him had some guts if she dared to yell at him like that.  
"You're tired," he hissed, his lidless eyes staring right into hers. "You should get some sleep."  
"Are you fucking kidding me?!"  
"You need sleep!" he sneered, grabbing her hand and dragging her out of the kitchen. "Your judgment will be clear tomorrow."  
She struggled to set herself free from his iron grip but with no avail. He was crazed with murderous anger, his fingers tightening like a vice around her wrist.  
When they entered his bedroom, he threw her on the bed, pinning her down until her futile struggle would cease. After a few more minutes of fight, he felt her softening, despair taking the spot of anger. Little by little, she came to realize that she was going to stay with him for a long time.  
She fell asleep with his arm possessively wrapped around her waist, her tears went dry. She just wanted to die.

* * *

**Sooo, this chapter's been quite cheesy. Sorry 'bout that. It was a filler for the next one when Jeff will start teaching Ophelia... stuff. Plsreview. ; u;**


	8. Chapter 8

Ophelia woke up the next morning with a burning ache through her body. She felt like she'd been running for miles at a marathon. The place where Jeff held her had caught a reddish tint, sign that he tightened his embrace as the night passed. She couldn't help but smile. Was he afraid she'd run away?  
She went downstairs, hoping he would be gone. Much to her disappointment, she saw him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his grin wider than usual.  
"G'mornin', Oph," he beamed as he pulled a chair for her.  
"Good morning to you too," she coldly replied as she took her seat. "Why so happy?"  
She knew she wasn't going to like the answer yet she couldn't help it. Her curiosity was gonna be the death of her, she thought.  
"Oh, nothing," he waved a white hand, "Cereal or bacon?"  
"Cereal, please," came her answer. "I don't believe you. People are not happy without a reason."  
Jeff didn't answer. He took his time to fix breakfast for her before sitting down at the table, facing the young woman.  
"When was the last time you've been happy?"  
His question took her by surprise. Was he trying to change the subject now?  
"When I saw the kittens yesterday."  
"Not like that," he chuckled, "I mean, really happy. So happy you felt like exploding with that much happiness."  
She didn't even need to think too much. Quick images of her beating up the dyke bully flashed before her eyes. It was scary yet pleasant in a weird way. She loved causing her pain. If she wouldn't have been stopped, she would've fucking ripped her face off. God, how much she adored seeing Sasha yelping in pain. It was like a drug to her. Like sweet music to her ears.  
"I can't remember," she lied.  
Jeff noticed the way she avoided eye contact at all costs. Ophelia was shamelessly lying and they both knew it. He grabbed the knife and started dragging it across the table, carving erratic lines as he went.  
"Wanna know what makes me happy?" And before she could answer, he said: "Blood. I love blood. I love seeing it pour out of my victims. I like the stains it leaves behind. I like its smell, its taste, its colour... And you know what's better than blood?" The answer came yet again from him. "The screams go with it when it comes out. And today, I'mma show that to you."  
Her eyes widened in horror.  
"What are you gonna do to me?"  
"Nothing. Today, you'll be the one getting those screams for me."

* * *

The room was filthy. Ophelia still didn't know how he managed to convince her to come down there. Oh, wait. There was something he said about a blade and her throat that persuaded her.  
All she could see around were some stained walls, a few chairs and an even more decayed floor. The feeling of dread she felt when she had started stepping down the stairs was now pressing heavier against her chest and, for a brief moment, she thought she would suffocate. As she walked farther into that oppressive darkness, her heart started pounding faster, threatening to break from her chest at any given time. She was clinging on Jeff like a child, his steps guiding hers, his every movement influencing hers.  
After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped. She felt him looking for something on the nearest wall and when he found it, the room was flooded by a dim green light. It looked and felt uncanny, standing in the middle of an eerily lit room with a guy with no eyelids and a permanent smile carved into his face.  
"There is my gift for you," he spoke in a raspy voice, as he pulled an old curtain off what looked like a cage.  
Ophelia jerked, stifling a horrified shriek. In the cage was a chair and on the chair was tied a girl, not older than seventeen, gagged and blindfolded.  
"J— Jeff," she stammered, "Who's this?"  
"Her?" he asked, poking the poor girl through the bars. "I've no idea."  
"And why are you showing her to me?" She insisted, the panic in her voice getting stronger with each word.  
"I just thought you'd have fun."  
"How?"  
His answer didn't come. Rather, he opened the cage and pulled the chair out, prompting muffled groans and cries from the tied girl. He then took a small knife from his jeans' pocket and sliced a small cut on the girl's face.  
"Ah, so much better," he sighed at her pained yelp. "Your turn."  
With a wicked gleam in his eyes, the killer handed the knife to Ophelia who nearly dropped it; her hands couldn't stop shaking.  
"I— I can't d— do this," she murmured, her voice soaked in tears. "Don't m— make me do i— it, please."  
He ran his long fingers through her hair, playing with it and twisting small strands around his index.  
"My little Ophie. My little and innocent Ophie," he whispered, bringing his face closer to hers. "Just try. If you don't like it, we'll stop."  
She gave a weak nod as his pale hand rested on hers before pulling it to the unknown girl's face. As a parent who teaches his child how to write, Jeff guided her hand across her face, increasing the pressure as he went.  
Warm blood sprayed Ophelia's hand and she nearly burst into tears. This was so wrong. So horrible and wrong...  
She saw tears dripping down the girl's cheeks. Tears of helplessness. She was wondering what the poor soul could think about in such a moment. Had she come at peace with the idea that she wasn't going to see the sunlight again or had she thought of ways to escape that hell?  
_I wish I could escape too_, Ophelia wanted to scream. _Do you think I want this? He makes me do it_, she thought, begging for forgiveness. Whose, that she did not know.  
"Deeper!" she heard Jeff's growl before slicing another cut into the victim's flesh. Another muffled squeal escaped her throat and another sinister chuckle left Jeff's lips.  
And in that moment, it all went dark. She couldn't control her moves anymore and she found that even if she wanted to, she would've failed. She started dragging the blade down to her shoulders, where she started caving deep into her skin. She saw her blood gushing out. She felt its smell and wondered what it tasted like. She brought the knife to her mouth and, with a malicious smirk, she licked the dark liquid. It was amazing. The coppery aroma enveloped her senses, crazing her. Stirring her.  
Another cut appeared on the helpless girl. And another one. And another, until Ophelia felt her arm going numb.  
When the hell was over, the knife fell with a loud noise and all that could be heard after were the soft sobs of the girl.  
With a feral growl, Ophelia fell to the floor, her groans soon turning into weeps.  
Jeff sat down in front of her and, for the first time since she'd met him, his voice sounded soothing when he talked.  
"You did great. How did you feel?"  
"Never been better," she replied, her eyes betraying her honesty. "Never... better..."  
"That's all I wanted to hear."  
And, before she could react, his lips lowered in hers, capturing her mouth in a devouring kiss.

* * *

Sooo, this was the eighth chapter. And they finally kissed! Yay, I guess. cx Anyway, please review and to those who already did, I love you. ; 3;


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